Dates.

Dates,
they freak me out,
same number of the day,
same number of the month.

It’s like the printing machine stuck
chrrr… chrrr… cluck. click. grrr…

Yet, it’s another year.

Like printing machine’s partial prints
takk.. tak. dakaa dakka tak…chrrr…

Maybe it’s a memorial of you everyday.

A voice in my head says,
“There’s something today.”
I ponder, ‘A birthday or a memory?’

I get sucked into the ocean of memories.

Like the printing machine goes,
chrr…grr…tak. dakaa dak.

Plunged into the past,
I see you,
all of you…
Standing there, smiling.

I look deep into those brown eyes,
wondering what they were saying,
wondering if it was just a ‘a look toward a strange, queer person’
or If it was something deeper,
‘a stare, a gaze that you can not hold off from that one person.’

chrr….chr…tak..tak tak tak…

I re-cherish all those moments,
I fall for you all over again.

grrr…

But then I start feeling breathless,
I realise that I’m drowning in this ocean.
I feel the urgency to snuck out of all of it and catch my breath.
Yet, I’m unable to do so.
I try my best & feel a dread.
“I’m about to die!” I hear my heart thumping.

tak. tak.. takaa takaa tak…grrr…

I feel someone pulling me out,
a pause, a slight ray of hope.

chrr….tak tak tak.

They noticed me drown so they came- my family.

Dates,
The year changes, the calender changes, the weekdays swap,
Yet, the number of the day and month keep iterating.

click. cluck. click. chrrr…..

Dates,
I sometimes lose track of them,
even though it’s bright & clear displayed on my phone.

Maybe I’m dreading the thought of being drowned in that ocean of past again.

Dates,
Everything changed,
even you & I,
Our ages,
Our maturity levels,
Our lives at some extent.

Yet, the number of the days & months keep repeating.

Dates,
they freak me out.

Yet everyday give me a hope,
a feel of urgency,
to move on, to live.

Because the printing machine needs to work
or it’ll be replaced.

chrr…tak. tak. tak. dakaa dakaa dak.

Dates,
the countdown of life.
scary, yet, just beautifully beautiful.

-M.K.S

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